


Some Things You Just Can't Admit

by alcimines



Category: Aquaman (2018)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 07:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcimines/pseuds/alcimines
Summary: Believe it or not, I know some people who are just like the narrator in this story.  This work is dedicated to them with all of my affection.





	Some Things You Just Can't Admit

SOME THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T ADMIT

"What's wrong, George?" I asked carefully.

I could tell that something was bothering him. George and I have known one another since we were kids. We grew up on the same block and went to the same schools together. I know him better than anyone else, and I know when he's on edge.

"Did you see the latest trailer for the Aquaman movie?" he asked nervously.

That was certainly an odd question. I chuckled as I shook my head. "No."

"I did," George continued slowly. "It's an extended trailer - something like five minutes long."

"So?" I asked.

After taking a deep breath, George went on. "I really liked it. I'm excited about the movie."

For several long seconds I just stared at George. I suppose part of me refused to accept what I'd just heard.

Then I got up, walked over to the door of my apartment, and threw it open. I can only imagine the expression that must have been on my face.

George's eyes went wide. "Joe..." he began imploringly.

"Out!" I roared as I angrily waved towards the street outside. "Get out! Our friendship is over! Over, do you hear me! Go! GO!"

Like a whipped dog, George slunk out.

"And never darken my door again!" I yelled. Then I slammed the door shut behind him.

There are things I will abide on this Earth, but not Aquaman fans.

* * *

The next day, I swallowed my pride and went over to George's place.

Hey, he was a friend and he needed my help.

"Okay, I over-reacted," I said slowly. "I'm sorry."

I was standing at George's front door. He didn't look angry and I appreciated that. I felt terrible about the way I'd flipped out at him.

"C'mon in," George said as he opened the door wider.

I walked into George's living room. It looked the same as it always had, but I found myself carefully scrutinizing it. Perhaps I was looking for some sign of what had happened to him. The oddball knickknacks scattered here and there - was there maybe a pattern of orange and green that I'd never noticed before?

As I'd done so many times over the years, I flopped onto the couch. George took the easy chair.

"Have you seen the trailer?" he asked carefully. He loves to talk about super-hero movies. We've both been comic fans since we were in grade school, but he's more into the movies than I am.

I felt a flare of... what? Anger? Grief?

Sheer moral revulsion?

I managed to bury my feelings. "Yes," I replied shortly.

"What did you think?" George asked eagerly.

"It was... better than I expected," I said - which was true. Of course, I hadn't expected much and...

Oh, who was I kidding? The trailer was fantastic.

Then I let out a long sigh as I tried to figure out how to continue. "It took me a while to figure out that Moomoo..."

"Momao," George corrected. "Jason Momoa."

"It took me a few seconds to realize that he was Aquaman," I said through gritted teeth.

"He played Aquaman in the Justice League movie," George pointed out reasonably.

Okay, that was just too much.

"The DCEU is an abomination," I said in cold reaction. "They have a few acceptable Batman movies and, of course, Wonder Woman, but after that it's just trash."

George just smiled and shook his head. I really hate it when he's being patient with me.

"Look, George," I said, trying to put what I was feeling into words. "Was it me? Maybe I wasn't there when you needed to talk about this... this... Aquaman thing? If that's what happened, I'm sorry. I should have helped you..."

George held a hand up. "I've been an Aquaman fan for years."

I fell back against the sofa, trying to not show any expression. You know a man for years. Hell, you know him for your entire life. But then it turns out that you don't really know him at all.

"Have you tried not being an Aquaman fan?" I asked earnestly, the words slipping out of me before I really could consider them. The sheer desperation in my voice was obvious.

Dammit, I wanted my friend back. He'd been taken from me by a blonde pretty-boy, with a ridiculous power-set, wearing a gold-scaled shirt.

George shook his head. "It's not like that. And besides..."

Then George paused.

"Besides what?" I asked.

George took a deep breath before continuing. "Besides, I found out about Aquaman from you. Remember those old, worn-out tapes you had? We watched them on your dad's video player?"

It took me a moment to respond. "That stupid animated show from the 70s? That... that was the start of it?"

George soberly nodded his head. "The next day, I went down to the store and picked up an Aquaman comic."

"He rides a giant seahorse!" I yelled. "For God's sake, one of his powers is that he can talk to fish!"

Something dream-like entered George's eyes. "Just think of it, a whole world undersea, hidden from us. A city - a people - we only know from ancient Greek myths..."

"Stop!" I roared as I jumped to my feet. Then I turned and stalked my way to the door.

The next few moments were strangely blank. Then I found myself out on the sidewalk, stumbling towards my car. I think there were tears in my eyes. A wretched feeling of depthless guilt filled my soul and threatened to drown me.

My fault.

It was all my fault.

* * *

I took a couple days of sick-leave from work, but mostly I just moped around my apartment. Every now and then my phone would ring, but I ignored it. I tried to distract myself with reading and gaming, but nothing seemed to work for more than a few minutes.

The thought of George, so young and vulnerable, pulling an actual Aquaman comic from some grubby shelf in some undoubtedly tacky and grime-filled comicbook store tormented me. I tried to tell myself that I wasn't responsible - that this was really just some deeply hidden flaw in George's character, but...

But you can't deny reality. And at some point you have to take responsibility for what you've done.

I'm a couple of years older than George, and I suppose I've always treated him like a younger brother. But I'd unthinkingly exposed him to something terrible. When we watched those tapes together, I just thought they were funny. It never even occurred to me that what I was doing wasn't just aesthetically questionable, but morally wrong.

What the hell was wrong with me? And why had it taken a direct admission from George to see what I'd done?

I'd turned George into an Aquaman fan.

I would never forgive myself.

* * *

"You aren't answering your phone," George said. He was at my front door.

"I got worried about you," he added.

Without a word, I waved him inside. He took his usual spot at the table just inside my living room door. I sat down across from him. A wargame dealing with a theoretical modern naval conflict in the South China sea was set up on the table. I'd been trying to distract myself with it - which was ridiculous since I constantly found myself wondering how the conflict would go if Atlantis intervened on one side or another.

"It's not your fault," George told me.

"Then whose fault is it?" I asked wretchedly.

You have to be a man and take responsibility for what you've done. And then you make amends. But how could I possibly fix this?

"I'd have encountered Aquaman sooner or later," George told me with a shrug. "And I'm sure I would have been interested no matter what."

I stared at George, wondering if brain surgery was a possibility. Surely modern medicine had some means of dealing with this form of deviance?

"Look, I've had a thought," George continued. "When the movie comes out, why don't we..."

I hastily put my hand up, and George stopped.

"I'm not seeing the movie," I said flatly. Very flatly.

George sighed in regret. "Okay. Okay. I won't push it."

Then something - I don't know what - made me look for some kind of common ground.

"I admit that the trailer looks good," I said.

George blinked in surprise.

"But you have to understand the trailers are distinct from the movies they're made from," I continued. "They're also advertising. It's the job of the people making the trailer to make the movie look as good as possible. We've both been fooled by trailers that polished a turd of a movie until it gleamed."

A smile appeared on George's face as he nodded his head in agreement.

"And just look at all the things in the trailer that don't seem right. Mera doesn't sound much like Mera. The ascension of Arthur to the throne of Atlantis is a done deal in the comics, but this movie seems to focus around it. Even Black Manta's outfit is too blocky. I grant you that the director can do a fine action sequence, but what does he really know about the comic?"

George gave me a long look. "For someone who's not a fan, you have some pretty specific objections to the trailer."

I was still for a long moment. Then I took a deep breath before replying.

"Don't. Try. To. Make. This. About. Me." I said very slowly and clearly.

"Okay!" George said hastily. "It's not about you! But I want to stay friends!"

And that was completely reasonable. "We're friends, George. And we're going to stay friends. It's just that there's something we won't talk about. People do that all the time. It's sort of like not talking about the last election because someone always ends up yelling and throwing things."

"I understand," George said. He was obviously humoring me.

* * *

It was the opening night of the "Aquaman" movie. I deliberately chose the latest show and dressed in a hoody. The plan was to keep the hood up until I got into the darkened theater.

"Enjoy your movie, sir!" the girl behind the counter said pleasantly.

I growled at her and walked onwards. Some mindless drones were leaving the earlier showing. They looked happy and were chattering about the special affects and Moomoo's abs of steel.

Morons.

"Would you care for some popcorn?" another very pleasant young lady said to me.

I glared at her. "Would you like to be the one stuck which mopping it up after I've vomited it all out?"

She wisely stopped badgering me. Stalking past her, I entered the actual theater and found a seat.

The trailers were problematic. Anyone who actually went to see "The Kid Who Would Be King" deserved a lobotomy.

Then the movie started.

I had a plan. I would watch the first ten or twenty minutes - long enough to establish that the movie sucked - and then leave. Depending on circumstances, I would then have multiple drinks, or soak myself with gasoline and light a match.

Instead, I sat through the entire thing. Then, in stony silence, I walked into the men's room. Standing frozen, I stared into the mirror until everyone else decided I was a crazy man and fled.

I took a long and deep breath. Then I let it out slowly.

"Damn it," I said reasonably into the mirror.

My reflection didn't look particularly interested in anything I had to say.

"Damn it," I repeated. "Damn it. Damn it! DAMN IT! DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT!!!"

Then I marched out the door.

Most of the theater staff was nervously approaching the bathroom, no doubt with orders to corral a madman who was cursing into a mirror, as I snuck out the back of the theater.

* * *

I was back at George's place.

"Did you see 'Aquaman'?" George asked.

"No," I said flatly.

George was doing a bad job of hiding a smile. "Are you sure? Sam went to the late show last night and he thought he saw you in your Spider-Man hoody. You know, the one you wore when you went to the last few 'Star Wars' movies?"

"I wear the hoody when I don't want anyone - not even God - to see the shame of what I'm doing," I told George bleakly. "A friend would understand and respect that. Sam is obviously not my friend, but what the hell else is new?"

George held his hands up. "Okay. Okay. Sorry."

Then he went and got us a pair of soda-pops.

"I'm thinking of seeing the movie tomorrow," he told me.

I took a long and deliberate drink from my soda. "I'll go with you."

George raise an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"I said, 'I'll go with you.' It's a common enough phrase. Did I perhaps stutter as I spoke?"

"No," George said cheerfully. "How about seven p.m. at the Cinema Six?"

"Let's go to the downtown theater instead. I may not be completely welcome at the Cinema Six for some time to come."

George pursed his lips, but didn't say anything. He just nodded in agreement.

"So what did you think of the movie?" he finally asked.

"Momoa and Heard are developing talents, but did a professional job. Momoa's charisma in undeniable, but it was shocking to see so many woman in the audience in an almost masturbatory trance. The movie is a bit too long, mostly because the director wanted to stick all seventeen components of Joseph Campbell's monomyth into a film. There's a racial-political allegory that's a bit forced, as is usually the case. Black Manta was awesome and the movie should have been about fighting him, instead of about an Atlantean civil war. Julia Roberts as the voice of a... well, no spoilers... but it was a weirdly brilliant decision. There was a strange scene-cut where Aquaman and Mera apparently teleported from the center of the Sahara desert to Sicily. And why the hell is it that secretive, advanced, civilizations always seem to choose leaders by personal combat? Oh, and I enjoyed seeing the Green Goblin acting as an adviser to an Atlantean king - somebody really needs to write that fanfic."

Then I paused before continuing. "And I perhaps shed a single manly tear when a certain meeting took place between two characters at the end of the film."

George smiled placidly at me.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the movie," he said agreeably. "I'm looking forward to seeing it with you. It'll be fun."

What a jerk.


End file.
